Part 3: Trials and Tribulations - The Little Rabbit
by Queen's Bishop
Summary: As the squad continues its inevitable journey, destinies begin to converge.


_No infringement on the rights of the owners of "Combat!" is intended. This story is for the enjoyment of "Combat!" fans only, not for any monetary profit by the author._

_Thanks to JML for proofreading and to Susan Rodriguez for beta reading._

**Trials and Tribulations**

**Part 3: The Little Rabbit**

**by: Queen's Bishop**

**[ ] Denotes French or German is being spoken, depending on the character.**

**()()() Denotes time has passed or the focus of the story has shifted to a different location or character.**

**### Denotes the beginning or end of a flashback.**

Summary of **Part 2: 'The Clock Cleaner' **–As Saunders and Doc completed their recuperation from food poisoning, the sergeant reflected on his earlier experiences playing poker. Then at dawn, the village of Saint François and King Company HQ came under attack.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

She stopped at the corner and looked down the street. She was ten years old but small for her age so she appeared to be even younger. Her name was Madeleine D'Arcy. She was a familiar sight in the village of Derriette, the little girl who sang songs to herself as she skipped along and who constantly talked to her doll Claudette…And who reported the number and location of German trucks, the comings and goings of Boche officers, little snatches of conversations she overheard as she and Claudette had tea parties in the half-empty cafés…anything and everything to her father when he returned home in the evening. Madeleine was a member of the French Resistance, although they knew nothing of her existence and she knew nothing of them.

One day, when she was still a child, she had come home from school crying. Her beloved teacher, Mme. LaClair, had been pulled from the classroom by the Boche. Her father, who always called her 'mon petit lapin' (my little rabbit), held her and let her cry. But, then he told her she must never again speak of Mme. LaClair to anyone but him. She must never speak of the Boche to anyone but him. He had made her promise.

Soon afterward, he asked her to tell him how many Boche trucks she saw on her walk to her friend Emilie's house. That was how it started, with the simple request to count the number of trucks, a little game just between the two of them.

She knew many of the Boche soldiers by name. They would call to her as she came down the street; "Guten morgen, Madeleine," or, "Guten tag, kind," and she would always turn, give them a sweet smile, a little curtsy, and respond, "Bonjour, Soldat Hans or Bonjour Heerführer Otto, comment allez- vous (how are you)?" To the delight of the soldiers, they were either a Soldat or a Heerführer (general). The cute little girl knew no other ranks.

Only once had Madeleine been afraid. She was skipping down the street and an officer she had never seen before unexpectedly stepped out of his big black car right into her path, knocking her down. When she looked up at the officer, she had an instant of panic. She thought she had knocked off the mask he was wearing, revealing an evil, scary face. But, it was only for an instant. Then she saw the look of confusion on the officer's face. His uniform had a strange insignia she had not seen before, lightning bolts on his collar. He was very short, and, except for his black lifeless eyes, a pleasant, kind looking man, like her Papa.

She didn't know what to do, so she started to cry because that was what little girls did. Another officer, a captain who also had lightning bolts, helped her to her feet and picked up the doll she had dropped. That man was very tall and thin with long bony fingers and a smile that made him look like a hungry dog.

[Are you alright, child?] he asked her in French as he handed her the doll.

She whispered to her doll and kissed the toy's arm. [Yes, Sir,] she replied. [Claudette's arm was broken, but I've kissed it and made it better. Thank you, mein Heerfūhrer.]

All of the men with the colonel had smiled, perhaps thinking of their own little girls back in Germany. She gave a small curtsy and skipped away.

That night she reported what had happened to her father, describing the lightning bolts and what each of the men who had surrounded the new officer looked like. She didn't, however, tell her father how, for an instant, she had thought the officer was wearing a mask. When Madeleine talked to her father about the Boche, she only told him real things. Later, when he read to her, they would talk of good faeries and magic words, evil elves and secret passages, all of the things that used to be real a long time ago…before the Boche came and everything changed.

Three days later two of the men Madeleine had described disappeared while on a routine assignment to pick up a person for questioning. They were never seen again and everyone in the village denied that the person they had been sent after even existed.

()()()()()()()()()()

Cpt. Nybeck, at the insistence of Col. Dale, had made the arrangements for the First Squad of King Company's Second Platoon to be billeted at the mayor's residence. It was a location that had, up to that point in time, been reserved for brass who wanted to 'visit the front.' From the few words that had passed between the colonel and the squad's NCO, the captain assumed the two men shared some bond. Perhaps the sergeant had served under the colonel at some point. But, it wasn't his place to pry. As ordered, he made the necessary preparations and gave the sergeant the address as the NCO was leaving the battalion hospital.

When the squad arrived at the front door of the mayor's grand house, they were greeted by a corporal and a private. A second private was in the cellar hurriedly stoking a fire to heat the water in the large reserve tank. The 'upstairs' private gave the squad several choices for dinner.

Kirby snorted. "Huh! So that's how the brass eats! I mighta known."

The private laughed. "The Kraut brass anyway. They hauled ass so fast they didn't even clean out the larder. We're supposed to use up what they left behind."

After deciding on the menu, the corporal led them to their individual bedrooms. Billy and Littlejohn shared one bathroom and Caje and Kirby another. The sergeant was put in the master bedroom with its own facilities, and Doc was assigned to another wing of the residence with six smaller rooms all sharing another bathroom at the end of the hall. But, since there were no other guests staying in the house at the time, it was no hardship for the medic.

The men could only gape at the space each room provided. It was an unaccustomed luxury since the majority of time they slept side by side in some cramped cellar or damaged building, or they were curled up in fox holes.

When they were told their new uniforms should arrive by the time they finished their showers, they immediately headed for their respective rooms. Littlejohn and Billy had a discussion about who should shower first, each wanting the other to have the pleasure. Kirby and Caje had the same discussion, except in their case, it was more of an argument since each wanted to go first. Doc and Saunders just shook their heads and went to their respective rooms, closing their doors behind them.

Except for the sergeant, the men gathered in the parlor a short time later with towels wrapped around their waists, clean shaven and with damp hair, to find the six piles of clothes. They retired to their rooms and reappeared looking and feeling like new men.

The sergeant's clothing was still in the parlor. Doc picked up the pile and went to the NCO's room. He knocked, but receiving no answer he opened the door and stuck his head in, thinking Saunders was still enjoying the hot water. Instead, he found the sergeant sound asleep, lying close to the edge of the bed. His hair was still damp and he had shaved, so evidently when he finished getting cleaned up he just crawled under the duvet and went to sleep.

Doc wondered for a moment why he was sleeping on the edge of the large bed, but then he saw the NCO's helmet on the night stand and the Thompson propped up against it. Both were within easy reach, in case they should be needed.

The medic set the clothes on a chair and quietly exited the room.

Kirby located the liquor cabinet, and each of the men was enjoying a drink when they were called to dinner. It was a feast the likes of which they hadn't enjoyed for a very long time, sausages, baked potatoes, and an actual salad with vegetables fresh from a garden. And for dessert, there was even an apple pie.

Littlejohn leaned back in his chair. "I could get used to this kind of life," he said with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Me, too," echoed Billy. "How come we got billeted here anyway?"

"'Cause we stopped the Kraut push at Saint Franks, that's why," answered Kirby.

Caje shook his head and rolled his eyes at his friend's garbled French pronunciation. "Dat is Saint François, mon ami."

"That's what I said," the BAR man replied.

Littlejohn tried to correct him. "No, you said Saint Franks."

"What do you know, ya big ox," Kirby snapped back.

Doc rolled his eyes. 'Some things never change,' he thought with a smile.

Not to be distracted from his question, Billy persisted, "But the guys from Second Squad were there, too, an' they're not enjoying hot showers an' eating apple pie."

"Billy's right," the medic said. "I think it's because the Sarge took charge after Cpt. Jampel got wounded and Lt. Hendricks was killed."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Hey, where is the Sarge anyway? He missed a great meal," Littlejohn said. Then, as he looked around, he sheepishly realized he had eaten everything that remained after each of the men had had second helpings, leaving nothing for Saunders if he should suddenly appear.

"He fell asleep as soon as he finished getting cleaned up," the medic replied, "which is something that Ah'm gonna do mahself, right now."

"Me, too," Billy said as he stood and give a big yawn and an equally big stretch.

"You're kiddin' me. It's only 8:30 an' you guys are goin' to bed! C'mon, let's go find some mamozelles an' have a little fun," Kirby said with a bit more enthusiasm than he actually felt.

Caje looked at his friend and shook his head. "You can go if you want to, but I'm tired out. Don't forget, we need to be ready to leave at 0700."

The BAR man gave him a blank stare.

"That's seven o'clock in the morning, Kirby," the medic managed to say without laughing as he pushed his chair back and stood.

The rest of the men also got up from the table and headed for their rooms, leaving the BAR man sitting alone. One of the privates who worked at the house came in and started to clear away the dirty dishes. Kirby looked hopefully at the young man, who shook his head.

"Not a chance, buddy. I'm on duty 'til 2300 an' I'm not doin' nothin' that might jeopardize this gig."

Kirby resigned himself to spending a quiet evening with a bottle of booze and a good book, or, on second thought, a bottle of booze would be sufficient. He was sprawled in a big overstuffed chair, half asleep and half drunk, when he heard someone persistently knocking at the front door. He looked at his watch. The dial was a little blurry but he didn't think it said eleven o'clock. He wondered where the privates had scurried off to as he dragged himself to the door and opened it, only to find Cpt. Nybeck standing in the entrance. The BAR man, swaying just a little, came to attention and gave a salute.

"As you were, Private. I see you've been enjoying yourself," the captain said sarcastically as he pushed his way past Kirby, followed by another captain.

"Where is…," the second captain looked at some papers he was carrying, "…Sgt. Saunders."

'Uh oh,' thought Kirby. 'The Sarge is gonna get court-martialed after all. This whole thing was just a set-up so they'd know where to find us.'

"Just a minute, Sir," the BAR man said, stalling for time. "I'll get him."

Instead, he quickly roused the rest of the squad who followed him back to the parlor. Cpt. Nybeck looked at the sleepy men and let out a sigh of frustration. He had already put in a long day and he just wanted to finish up Col. Dale's orders concerning this squad and their NCO.

"It's Sgt. Saunders we need to see, not you men! Where is he?" Nybeck demanded.

"The Sarge is sleepin'. What do you want him for?" Kirby blurted out before he could stop himself, so he hastily added, "Sir."

The other captain took a step forward and calmly said, "I'm Cpt. Robinson, Dr. Robinson. Col. Dale wants me to take a look at the sergeant's leg before he goes back to the front in the morning. Is he here?"

Doc responded, "Yes, Sir, right this way."

He led the two captains, and the rest of the squad, to the door of master bedroom. The medic knocked, but got no answer. So, once again, he opened the door and stuck his head in.

The sergeant was still asleep on the edge of the bed, but not peacefully as he was the last time Doc had seen him. It looked as if Saunders had had a fight with the duvet. It was pulled and twisted under his left foot and knee, covered him half-way up his torso and then twisted again behind his shoulder, ending up tightly gripped in his right fist which was flung off to the side. And, the duvet and the NCO were both soaked with sweat.

Dr. Robinson quickly took charge. "Alright, everyone out," he ordered.

"Sir, Ah'm a medic," Doc said.

"Okay, you can stay…the rest of you, out!"

There was some grumbling from the other squad members, but in the end everyone filed out of the room. Only then did the doctor put his hand on Saunders' forehead.

The sergeant immediately grabbed the wrist with a strong grip and pushed it away, groggily saying, "Just leave it, Doc!"

Dr. Robinson stepped back and Doc moved to the NCO's side. The first thing he did was to move the Thompson beyond the sergeant's reach. "Just front line reflexes," he said to the doctor with a little smile. Then he turned his attention to Saunders.

"Sarge, Sarge, wake up. It's me, Doc," the medic said.

The sergeant pushed himself up on his elbows. He looked at the medic with a glassy-eyed stare but then fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. "Doc, leave me be. I gotta get some sleep."

"Sarge, Dr. Robinson is here. He's gonna take a look at that cut on your leg. Then you can sleep."

Doc put his hand on the sergeant's forehead and confirmed what he already knew; Saunders was burning up with a fever.

With a nod from the medic, the doctor began his examination. Temperature, pulse and respirations were duly noted. Then he and Doc untangled the duvet and pulled it back to expose the injured leg. The doctor snipped the bandage the sergeant had wrapped around the cut after his shower. However, there was no sign that Saunders had put any more sulfa powder on the wound. A yellow puss was oozing from the gash and the area around it was red and swollen.

Doc immediately recognized the odor the cut was giving off because that smell always reminded him of grapes. It was the stench of infection, a bad infection1. He silently cursed himself for not having checked the cut and changed the dressing before they left the line that morning, regardless of what the sergeant had said.

"When did this happen?" Robinson asked.

"Three, no almost four days ago. Ah've been trying to keep it clean and putting sulfa on it, but we only got off the line this morning…Ah should've made him have it checked out as soon as we got here."

Dr. Robinson could hear the self-recrimination in the medic's voice, so there was no need to point out the obvious. Instead, he gently probed the area around the cut, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from Saunders as he tried to pull his injured leg away.

"By the way," the doctor said, "what's your name?"

The medic laughed. "Doc, everyone just calls me Doc."

"Well, Doc, I've got just the thing for your sergeant."

The doctor took four small wooden boxes from his rucksack. He set the boxes on a bureau and opened one. Inside were five carefully packed glass ampoules. He snapped the neck of each of the ampoules and lined them up. Then he rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a syringe which he used to draw up the small amount of liquid from each vial. He opened another box and repeated the process until the syringe contained the contents of ten ampoules.

"This," the doctor said with obvious pleasure, "is the new wonder drug, penicillin. I've been waiting for the perfect case to give it a try and when Col. Dale told me about the sergeant, well…I knew this was it."

"You mean you've never used it before!" Doc exclaimed, horrified at the thought that he was playing Igor to Dr. Frankenstein.

"No, no, no. It's perfectly safe. It's still in short supply so close to the front, so we've been told only to use it on those cases where it's needed and will be effective. This wound is perfect. It's obviously infected and, without the penicillin, the infection will progress and the leg will probably end up having to be amputated to save his life. You see what I mean? This is a case where the penicillin is needed and will be effective."

"AMPUTATED!"

"No, no, no. Everything will be fine. You'll see. The infection really isn't too far advanced, thanks to your continuing attention. By tomorrow the fever will be broken and by the day after that he'll be right as rain. This stuff works absolute miracles."

He wiped off a spot on Saunders' hip with alcohol and gave him the shot.

"Now, let's get that cut cleaned up and bandaged."

Dr. Robinson's enthusiasm notwithstanding, Doc was extremely distressed.

Once they had debrided the cut and put on a fresh dressing, Dr. Robinson prepared one more syringe and gave the medic instructions to give another shot in six hours. He also said that someone should sit up with the sergeant on the off chance he took a turn for the worse. The physician said he would return tomorrow afternoon.

"But, Doctor, we're supposed to head back to our platoon at 0700," the medic said.

"No, you stay here and keep an eye on your sergeant. I'll clear things with Col. Dale."

The medic saw him talking with Cpt. Nybeck as the two men left the house. As soon as they were gone, the rest of the squad went back into Saunders' room and pounced on Doc.

"What did de doctor say?" "Is the Sarge gonna be alright?" "What are those glass things?" "Are you gonna give the Sarge a shot?"

It was a babble of voices surrounding the poor medic.

Finally, he angrily said, "Y'all just shut up!" much to the surprise of his squad mates. "First of all, keep your voices down. Now, just give me a minute to think."

Doc turned and walked away from the other men, returning to Saunders' side. He took the cloth from the sergeant's forehead and put it in the basin of cold water he had set on the night stand. After he wrung it out and re-applied it, he took a deep breath to compose himself. Only then did he rejoin his squad mates.

"Alright, Ah'll tell you what he said, but don't y'all start yapping at me. Just listen."

Seeing how upset Doc was, the men braced themselves for bad news.

"The cut on the Sarge's leg has gotten infected…"

Kirby looked down at his feet, remembering how he hadn't exactly been paying attention when they started down the rise. If he hadn't been complaining, he might not have stumbled and knocked the sergeant down. Then Saunders wouldn't have gotten the cut in the first place.

"…Ah should've made him go back to the aid station that first day…"

"Aw, Doc, it isn't your fault. We all know how the Sarge is," Littlejohn said.

"Yeah, Doc, he hardly even let you put a bandage on it," added Billy.

"Well, anyway, Ah've smelled these infections before an' they're bad."

"Smelled?" Kirby said, wrinkling up his nose.

"Yeah, the real bad ones smell like grapes."

The men looked at each other. Nobody, not even Kirby, made a wise crack.

"Anyway," continued the medic, "Dr. Robinson said the infection wasn't too far along an' that this new medicine called penicillin would clear it right up. He said it's a wonder drug. That's what was in those glass vials."

"Wouldn't ya know it," responded the BAR man in disgust. "They couldn't even give the Sarge the whole shot, not even a dollar's worth. We always get the short end of the stick!"

Everyone turned to look at Kirby, trying to understand what he was ranting about.

Littlejohn interrupted him. "What in the blue blazes are you talking about?"

"They only give the Sarge a penny's worth of this medicine. I'll bet them supply guys got warehouses full of the stuff that they're sellin' on the Black Market."

"Kirby," Doc said as he shook his head and tried to keep from laughing. "Dr. Robinson didn't give the Sarge a penny's worth of the medicine. The medicine is called penicillin and Dr. Robinson thinks it will stop the infection." He didn't add that if it couldn't, Saunders might end up losing his leg. Unless there was a need for them to know, there were things Doc never shared with the rest of the squad, things it was his burden alone to bear.

"Oh…well, okay, Doc. So how long do we gotta wait for this penny stuff to work its magic?" Kirby asked.

"Dr. Robinson thinks the fever should break by morning." The medic looked at his watch. "Ah've got to give him another shot in six hours and someone needs to sit up with him through the night in case the fever gets worse."

A watch rotation was quickly set, although nobody got any real sleep. Six hours later, Doc gave the NCO the second shot. Around 0800 Saunders woke up and thought he saw Billy dozing in a chair at his bedside. But, he decided he was dreaming as he felt a bit groggy, so he rolled over and went back to sleep.

At 0900, when Doc put a hand on the sergeant's forehead, it was cool to the touch. The medic informed the rest of the men that Saunders was out of the woods.

Kirby shook his head in amazement. "I guess you was right, Doc. All it took was a penny's worth."

Even Billy rolled his eyes.

()()()()()()()()()()

One day her father asked Madeleine to pick wildflowers and place them on her mother's grave. It was a pleasant walk down the road to the cemetery, a walk she and Claudette always enjoyed.

[Perhaps,] her father said, [you will see something of interest when you pass close to the Boche encampment.]

The little girl laid the wild flowers in front of her mother's headstone. She sat down in the cool grass at the foot of the grave and stared at her mother's name for a long time. She had no memory of her mother, so whenever she visited the grave, she only pretended to talk to her. The person she really talked to was Mme. LaClair. She hoped her words would float on the wind and find their way to her beloved teacher's ears, wherever she might be.

She talked about a wonderful book of faery tales she had just finished reading and of the people in the village, people Mme. LaClair knew. She didn't tell her sad things, that M. Montague had been picked up in the middle of the night by the Boche or that young Mme. Duprés had died in childbirth and the baby had died a short while later. No, she only ever told Mme. LaClair happy or funny things. But, since on that day there were no happy or funny little stories, she made them up. After all, she thought, they might have happened if the Boche hadn't come to Derriette and things were as they used to be.

When she was finished, she picked up her doll and headed back to the village. She had so much to tell her father.

Madeleine had their meager supper of thin soup and a bit of bread ready by the time her father returned home. After they finished eating, she described the things she had seen, the twelve rows of tents, with eight tents in each row, the large guns on two-wheeled carts, the tanks with their long barrels that made her think of elephant trunks. (She covered her mouth and giggled when she told her father that.) There were also big round metal drums stacked one on top of the other, and rows of wooden boxes also stacked up. Everything was hidden in the woods or covered with funny nets.

When she was finished, her father sat and thought about everything she had described.

[Mon petit lapin,] he said at last, [Are you sure? How did you get close enough to see all of this?]

[It was easy, Papa. I put Claudette under a tree while I picked the wild flowers. Then I went to the camp, crying. I saw one of the soldiers I know and I told him that while I was picking flowers for Mama's grave Claudette had wandered off and gotten lost. He told me not to cry. He called his friends and they went to look for her. Another soldier took me inside to the food tent to wait and they gave me cake to eat. I watched and listened to everything until they returned with Claudette, which made all of us very happy. They took me out of the camp by a different way, closer to the cemetery. Then I put the flowers on Mama's grave. Do you want me to go back tomorrow?]

[Non, non, non, mon petit lapin. That was very clever of you, but now you must listen carefully to what I tell you.]

Her father explained that he hadn't realized how close the Americans were. There had already been one big battle and the Boche were getting ready for another. Because of this, they were very nervous, so she had to be very, very careful and keep away from them. He got so serious, Madeleine became frightened. She looked at Claudette. The little doll looked scared, too.

[If one night I don't come home or, if I tell you to run, you must go to the Americans. Follow the path from Derriette to Saint François. But, don't go directly down the path. You must be very, very careful to avoid the Boche. Just keep the path in sight so you don't get lost. When you get to the Americans, you must say this to them in English,] "I am de little rabbit." [Say it.]

Madeleine repeated, "I am de...petit lapin."

[Non, non, non, mon petit lapin. In English, like I taught you.]

When the Boche had first arrived in the village, Papa began telling her wonderful stories about good faeries and enchanted potions and animals who acted like people when people weren't around. He told the stories in English because he said he was teaching her magical things that not everyone could know about. Initially it was difficult to understand the stories, but she quickly learned the meanings of the strange sounds.

She looked at her Papa and slowly said, "I am...de…liddle…rabbit."

[Good. One of the Americans will reply in English] "Do not be afraid of de big bad wolf." [Can you remember that?]

[Yes, Papa. First I say,] "I am de liddle…rabbit…" [and then the American says,] "Do not be… afraid…of de big bad…wolf."

[Very good mon petit lapin; I am proud of you! After the American says his part, you must tell him in English everything you just told me and anything else you may learn about the Boche between now and then. But, only talk to that American.]

[But, Papa, where will you be?]

[Hopefully, mon petit lapin, I will be with you. But if I'm not, you must do as I've told you. Now go get ready for bed and I'll be in to tell you a story and listen to your prayers.]

()()()()()()()()()()

Dr. Robinson returned in the early afternoon. He was exceedingly pleased with the complete turn-around in his patient's condition and he released the sergeant from his care. Cpt. Nybeck told the squad they could catch a ride back to the front on a supply truck at 0700 the following morning. The men enjoyed a final night of luxury, including another dinner with all the trimmings, long showers with hot water and a good night's sleep in real beds.

By 0930 the next day they were back in Saint François rummaging around in what was left of their little house. During the artillery barrage the building's walls had fallen in on themselves, but Kirby was able to worm his way in and locate the squad's duffle bags. Since the house didn't seem to be on the verge of further collapse, the men cleared away some of the debris and billeted in the cellar.

After a day of sentry duty, Saunders was called to the CP. First Squad was to head out the following morning to relieve Third Squad at the company's new forward OP on the path to Derriette. It was a position not far from where the squad had collapsed with food poisoning about a week previously. The sergeant returned to the cellar and informed the men of their orders.

"See, I knew it!" Kirby said, getting immediately wound up for a long complaint. "They can't run this blasted war without us bein' out front. What've they been doin' for the past three days? I'll tell ya what…nothin'!...that's what. They've just been sittin' on their big fat duffs waitin' for us to get back!"

"Kirby, we're replacing Third Squad, so they've been in the forward position," Littlejohn said.

"Oh, what do you know, ya big moose. They probably just got sent out today 'cause they knew we was comin' back."

"Kirby, shut up!" Saunders said. He could feel a headache starting to develop.

The rest of the men hid their smiles. It was good for things to be back to normal.

"One more thing," the sergeant said. "We'll need to be on the look-out for some big shot in the Maquis."

"How are we gonna know who he is, Sarge?" Billy asked.

Saunders ran his fingers through his hair to stall for time. He knew what was going to happen when he answered the question because he knew how he reacted when the ninety-day-wonder had told him. He put on his best poker face and responded, "Because, Nelson, his call-sign is 'Little Rabbit.' That's how we'll recognize him."

Laughter and crude jokes filled the cellar and spilled out into the street of the little village.

()()()()()()()()()()

The next evening, supper had been ready for over an hour, but her father still hadn't come home. Soon it would be dark. Madeleine sat on the big stump Papa used when he chopped wood for the fireplace and the kitchen stove. She tried to talk to Claudette, but the doll wouldn't answer her except to say she was scared.

[Don't worry, Claudette. Papa will be home soon.] She said it over and over as she rocked back and forth, [Don't worry, Papa will be home soon…Papa will be home soon…], but the doll was still too scared to talk.

Suddenly, she heard a noise. Someone was coming, not down the path but running through the woods. Madeleine jumped up and ran into the house. She closed the door and peeked out from behind the curtain. It seemed like she had to wait for a long time but, at last, there was Papa. She ran and opened the door, so happy to see him.

He stopped, checking to see how close behind the Boche were before he ran into the house and closed the door.

Madeleine looked at her father. His face was covered with sweat and was scratched from the bushes and branches he had run into in the woods. He was breathing rapidly as he frantically looked around the room. She had never seen her father like this. He grabbed one of her shoulders and she saw tears in his eyes. Now, Madeleine was very afraid.

[Papa?]

[Mon petit lapin, do as I say. Get your shawl and run out the back door. Don't look back and don't come back. Remember what I told you,] "I am de little rabbit. Do not be afraid of de big bad wolf." [Don't forget. In English. Now run!]

[But, Papa…]

Her father pulled a shawl from the peg by the door and shoved it into her arms. He kissed her and then pushed her out the back door.

[Run, mon petit lapin! Run!] were his final words to her.

She ran through the woods she knew so well until she came to one of her secret places. There, she slipped down beneath a fallen tree trunk and nestled into the tangle of branches and dead leaves. She held Claudette close to her chest so the doll couldn't see out. Then, she waited.

()()()()()()()()()()

Jean Pierre D'Arcy didn't have long to wait. He knew the Boche were close behind him. All he wanted was the chance to make it home, to see Madeleine for one last time, and to do what he could to save her. He quickly pulled the box from under his bed and removed the German stick grenade, the model 24s with its hollow wood handle on the bottom and high-explosive charge in the steel can on top, he had saved for this occasion. He had heard the Boche refer to it as a 'potato masher.' He sat in his favorite chair with the hand-held bomb wedged between the arm of the chair and his thigh. His only hand rested on his knee, his arm concealing the explosive device. He didn't flinch when the Boche burst into the room.

The SS men waited just inside the door for their colonel to enter. The officer gave Jean Pierre D'Arcy a sadistic smile.

[You will come with me. I've been waiting a long time to meet you.]

Jean Pierre smiled and replied in German, [Of course, mein Heerführer.]

As he prepared to stand, M. D'Arcy pushed his thigh tightly against the potato masher to hold it as he twisted the cap on the grenade. Then, in one smooth motion as he was standing, he gave it a little toss toward the SS colonel just as one of the soldiers shot him.

The colonel instinctively brought his arms up to cover his face and turned away. However, both movements proved to be unnecessary.

Of all the potato mashers Jean Pierre D'Arcy had handled through the years of war, the one he had chosen for his ultimate act of sabotage turned out to be a dud. After it landed and rolled harmlessly away, the colonel leaped forward and grabbed the lapels of the dying man's jacket. A single unheard word escaped from his lips with his last breath, "Madeleine."

The colonel shook the lifeless body and then slammed it to the floor. But something…something he had said…"mein Heerführer." That was what the little girl he had knocked down called his aide.

[THE GIRL,] screamed the colonel, [BRING ME THE GIRL!]

He stomped out of the house as the SS men spread out to search the woods and the village.

()()()()()()()()()()

Madeleine heard the shot ring out. She hugged Claudette more tightly to her chest, trying to stop the poor little doll's crying.

()()()()()()()()()()

The squad left Saint François at dawn. This time there were no replacements, just the six men who knew what was expected of them and what they could expect from each other. They made good time, not stopping for a break until they reached the stream. They were all dreading the crossing. Caje had even brought along a length of rope, slung over his shoulder and across his chest like a bandoleer. However, it proved to be unnecessary. The ferocious torrent they faced previously, fed by the run-off from other streams swollen with rain, had returned to its normal size.

"Sarge, ya better look at the map. Caje musta lead us in the wrong direction," quipped Kirby as he surveyed the gentle, slow-moving stream.

The scout glared at the BAR man. Friend or not, things had now gone too far.

At first, the rest of the men had been amused by Kirby's non-stop complaints. Only the sergeant seemed to be suffering. He had occasionally turned around and told Kirby to shut up, but ten or fifteen minutes later the monologue had started again. After a while, it had gotten on everyone's nerves. Not that they hadn't heard it all a hundred, maybe even a thousand times before, but today his constant whining was ruining what was otherwise a perfectly good day. And now, now he had crossed the line.

Speaking slowly, as if fighting for control with every word, the Cajun said, "Kirby, if I hear one more word from you de rest of dis patrol, I will personally hang you upside down in a tree and leave you dere for de buzzards to peck apart!" He fingered the rope and then gave it a yank.

"Sarge! Sarge! Did ya hear that?" Kirby cried out.

Saunders looked from one man to the other, then turned his back and began walking upstream. The other three men followed their sergeant, eyes cast down trying to hide the grins on their faces.

It didn't take the NCO long to locate a likely place to wade across the stream. He pulled out his binoculars and carefully surveyed the opposite bank. When he was done, he handed them to Caje, who had silently appeared at his side. The scout finished and upon receiving a small nod from the sergeant, he stepped out from behind the bush he was using for cover and lifted his rifle over his head as he took his first steps into the water. The rest of the squad, spread out along the bank, watched for any movement on the other side, ready to open fire should the need arise.

Once across the stream, the Cajun disappeared into the underbrush. He checked in both directions before circling back and signaling that it was clear. The sergeant sent Littlejohn and Nelson across, then Kirby and Doc. When everyone was safely on the other side, he sat down and rolled his right trouser leg up as high as he could, tugging the bunched material over his knee. Only then did he stand and step into the water. He was greeted by curious and bemused stares as he climbed out of the stream on the other side and sat down on the bank.

"Dr. Robinson said I had to keep it dry," he rather sheepishly explained as he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe off the area around the cut.

Doc, moving swiftly before the sergeant had a chance to wave him off, said, "As long as you got your trouser leg pulled up, Ah'll just go ahead an' change the bandage."

Saunders' glare silenced any comments that might have been forthcoming.

()()()()()()()()()()

Madeleine awoke with a start. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she thought she must have had a bad dream. But, when she realized she was still lying under the tree trunk with Claudette, she knew the dream had been real and her Papa wouldn't be calling her to breakfast.

[Claudette, wake up. We have to take a long walk, but don't be afraid. I'll hold your hand.]

The little doll smiled at her and said she would be very brave. Together they set off, two tiny figures moving through the very tall trees, in search of the path to Saint François. She was careful, as Papa had told her she must be. She didn't walk on the path when she found it, only in the path's direction, and she watched and listened for the Boche. They were very noisy, unlike little Claudette and her. Their passing didn't disturb the birds or leave a twig out of place.

As they left the woods, she stopped and ate a few bilberries 2. Mixed with the early morning dew, she thought her Papa must have asked the woodland faeries to leave the sweet treat just for her.

()()()()()()()()()()

Kirby felt an involuntary shiver run up and down his spine. He cautiously glanced at the rest of his squad mates, but they didn't seem to be bothered by the site that was slowly coming into view. Of course, Doc hadn't been with them, so he couldn't know that the tangle of stones and logs up ahead was where the rest of the squad had collapsed from food poisoning.

The BAR man turned around, walking backward to check the back trail.

Maybe they didn't remember because they had all been so sick, but he remembered. He remembered his feelings of helplessness and despair because, in the end, there was nothing he could do to protect them. He suddenly felt ashamed. He had just surrendered and hoped the Krauts would spare their lives.

'When the chips were down,' he thought, 'they couldn't depend on me; no, not on ol' William G. Kirby to lay down my life to protect theirs.'

He wheeled back around and almost slammed into Saunders.

"Sheez, Sarge, ya scared the bejeebers outa me. I coulda put ya back in the hospital."

The sergeant gave a small smile, remembering their earlier collision. "Sorry. You okay. You seem awful quiet."

"Well, Caje got kinda mad at me."

"He didn't mean it."

"Yeah, I know."

The two men continued walking in silence toward the log and stone barricade.

As they approached it, Saunders finally said, "Lt. Hanley told me what you did…"

Kirby thought he meant how he tried to take care of them when they were sick. "Sarge, I ain't much of a nurse…"

The sergeant shook his head. "No, not that…If you'd tried to fight them, we'd have all been killed."

Kirby looked at Saunders and his jaw dropped open. 'How'd he known that's what I've been thinkin' 'bout? Sometimes, it just seems like the Sarge can read my mind,' he thought.

"How'd ya know…?"

"Because that's what would've bothered me, wondering if I'd made the decision for the right reason. We're all alive. What better proof is there than that?"

Saunders picked up his pace and moved back up the line.

()()()()()()()()()()

Madeleine crouched down, making herself as small as possible. She wished Papa hadn't grabbed the red shawl when he pushed her out the door. She thought about leaving it behind, but knew she would need it if she had to sleep outside another night. Claudette's tummy growled and she whispered to the little doll to be quiet. She had heard something up ahead.

She hadn't seen them until she was almost on top of them. Luckily, they were all looking in the other direction, so she carefully backed up. She tried to go around, but now that she knew what to look for, she could see that there elf houses dotting the fields on both sides of the path. She could even see some of the elves, wearing grass and bushes in their hats when they briefly stuck the tops of their heads up out of their houses. Some of the houses had little slanted roofs covered with the same grass and bushes. If the roof wasn't propped up on one side, she could have walked right over the house and never even known it was there.

So, she backed up a bit more and sat down, trying to decide what to do. Claudette said to put the shawl over her head and say magic words to make them both invisible, but Madeleine didn't think that was a good idea. Then Claudette said to wait until dark and go around the elf houses. That was a better idea, but how would she be able to see them in the dark? Claudette didn't have an answer for that, so they both sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Madeleine told the doll there was only one thing to do.

[We must go back and go through the land of the evil elf, Prince Netherworld.]

[Non, non, non,] cried Claudette. [If you drop me, I'll be lost forever.]

[I won't drop you. I'll hold you very tight and we'll cross while it's still light. There won't be any Boche in the land of the evil Prince Netherworld. We'll be safe. You'll see.]

Against Claudette's better judgment, they went back about half a kilometer to avoid the elves. Madeleine led them far away from the path until they reached a swampy area that her Papa had told her to never, ever enter because it was the land of an evil elfin prince. He had told her, [Once you go in, mon petit lapin, you will never find your way out.] She clutched the little doll with both hands, holding her close to her chest because the poor little thing was shaking so badly.

[If we're brave, then the good faeries will guide us,] she told Claudette as she took her first step into the cold, slimy black water.

()()()()()()()()()()

When the squad was within sight of the rise where Lt. Hanley and Kirby had called in the artillery barrage, the sergeant signaled for the scout to stop. He waved Nelson forward and pulled the radio receiver out of the back of Billy's web belt. The rest of the men settled down to wait. Moving up on a forward position could be tricky, especially if the squad on duty had had a rough time and was already on edge.

"Black Rook, this is White Rook, do you read me? Over," Saunders said into the receiver.

The sergeant was greeted by a momentary burst of static and then the clear voice of Sgt. Moore from Third Squad could be heard. "'Bout time ya got here, White Rook. We wanna get home before midnight so we don't all get turned into pumpkins."

Saunders smiled. It didn't sound as if Third Squad had had much trouble. "Roger, Black Rook. We're in sight of you an' will be approaching from the south. Over."

"Okay, White Rook. We'll put out the welcome mat. Over an' out."

Third Squad had their gear all packed by the time First Squad reached the top of the rise.

"Well, I hope ya dug them fox holes nice an' deep…" Kirby began, but when he cast a cautious glance over at his squad mates and was met by Caje's dark, intense glare, he decided to leave it at that.

"Yeah… well, we done better than that. Looky here," replied Smitty, the Third Squad BAR man.

At the top of the rise were three normal fox holes, although none of them was big enough to accommodate two men comfortably. However, dug into the rise facing the way they had just come, but well camouflaged, was a large chamber.

"We figured it was an artillery short. So we dug it out an' covered our ponchos with some branches an' such for a roof. It makes a real nice place to stretch out an' get some sleep, don't it!" Smitty proudly said.

"All the comforts of home," added Melvin, another member of Third Squad.

"It just needs some hot an' cold runnin' water. That's somethin' you fellas can work on," Sgt. Moore said.

Saunders walked over to join his counterpart and the two sergeants moved away from the rest of the men for a few private words.

"How's it been?" Saunders asked.

"Quiet…actually kinda spooky with all that wreckage down there," Moore turned and looked down at the fields below, strewn with the twisted remains of troop carriers and other war machines that had been caught in the barrage. "Your eyes begin to play tricks on ya an' ya think some of them bodies are movin'. To be honest with ya, I'm glad to be leavin' this place."

Saunders surveyed the landscape and felt the prickle of goose bumps forming on his arms.

"Also, I got orders this mornin' that I'm supposed to leave my two replacements with ya." Sgt. Moore raised his voice and called, "CARTER, KRAMER, GET ON OVER HERE!"

Two big, raw-boned young soldiers crawled out of two of the fox holes and walked over to their sergeant.

"Yeah, Sarge…"

…ya wanted us?"

The sergeants, one with a big grin on his face and the other looking a bit surprised, gazed at the two soldiers.

"Yeah, I know. Their own mothers couldn't tell 'em apart an' the Army, in its infinite wisdom, not only dresses 'em alike but also assigns 'em to the same squad! Can ya beat that!? There's only one way to tell 'em apart." The Third Squad sergeant turned to the replacements and said, "Boys, take off them pots."

The two soldiers dutifully removed their helmets, one revealing bright red curly hair and the other hair that was limp and dishwater brown.

"'Course the Army frowns on soldiers walkin' around on the front lines without wearin' their helmets."

"Which one's Carter an' which is Kramer?" a slightly bemused Saunders asked.

"Danged if I know," replied Moore. Then he said with a grin, "Boys, how many times do I gotta remind ya, keep them pots on!...This is Sgt. Saunders. Like I told ya, you're gonna be stayin' behind with First Squad…So, make me proud," he added with another grin.

"Don't worry, Sarge…"

"…we will."

"Now get on back to your fox holes!" Moore turned his attention back to Saunders as the two replacements walked away and then disappeared, seemingly swallowed up by the earth. "I'm leavin' ya all our rations, the light machine gun an' ammo belts we toted out here, an' a half dozen or so water skins I had the boys take off some of the dead Krauts. Ya gotta haul water from the creek, so havin' the extra canteens can save ya a trip. Anythin' else I can tell ya?"

"Any sign of the Little Rabbit?" Saunders asked.

"Heh," Moore snorted. "I think them S-2 guys are just havin' a laugh 'cause they're all the time callin' to ask, 'Have ya seen the Little Rabbit?'...Have ya seen the Little Rabbit?'...I expect they'll be deliverin' the punch line in a day or so."

Saunders knew that Moore, like himself, had been burned more than once by faulty intelligence. It was a commonly held belief on the front lines that S-2 accepted as true everything Kraut prisoners feed them and nothing their own soldiers reported.

"Well, if there's nothin' else, we'll head back…good luck."

The two sergeants shook hands and Moore signaled his squad to move out. Carter and Kramer rose up out of their fox holes as one and each gave a small wave to their departing comrades.

Saunders called his squad together and introduced the two new men. He made no attempt to distinguish between them and, to his great surprise, nobody, not even Nelson, asked which was which. He set the watch rotation and then spread his poncho and blanket out in the make-shift sleeping chamber. He tilted his helmet forward onto the bridge of his nose and was soon softly snoring as the rest of the men settled into their new home.

()()()()()()()()()()

Madeleine gave a last look at the solid land she and Claudette were leaving behind. Turning to face into the land of the evil elfin prince, she picked out a tree stump in the distance and began marching resolutely toward it.

She had given a lot of thought to the problem of how to travel through the evil elfin prince's land as she and Claudette had backtracked. She knew how to find her way back if she wanted to return to the same spot. That was easy; just leave a trail of bread crumbs or drop shiny pebbles along the way, or even unravel the shawl and let the yarn play out as she walked along. But, how do you find your way forward? She thought of all the stories her Papa had told her and of all the secret words she had learned, but nothing seemed to fit the situation.

Finally, she remembered the story he told her when she was just beginning to understand the magical words of English. It was the story of the clever ant.

_The scout ants returned with tales of a great pile of food somewhere across the wide ocean of a room, because, to an ant, a room must seem very wide indeed. All of the other ants set out with their noses to the ground, trying to smell the footprints of the scouts and, in that way, find the food. But soon, the footprints of the scouts were mingled with those of the rest of the ants. Everyone got so confused that they ended up walking in circles and none of them made it to the great pile of food. _

_The clever ant, however, stood up on his hind legs and looked out into the wide ocean of a room. He couldn't see the pile of food, but he knew it was somewhere in the distance. So, he picked a mark on the floor. He didn't look left or right, up or down, only at that point and he walked until he reached it. Then he picked another mark in the distance in line with where he had started and where he currently was and he walked to that point. And so on, and so on, and so on, until finally, when he stood on his hind legs, he saw the great pile of food. What a clever ant he was!_

And that was what Madeleine decided to do. She picked out a tree stump and walked to it, only changing direction once when a big log blocked her path. She counted the steps she took to the left, and when she got past the log, she took an equal number of steps to the right. Then she focused on the tree stump and completed her journey to it.

[See, Claudette, there's nothing to be afraid of. We'll go once more in this direction and then turn and head in the direction of the path to Saint François. We'll be out of the land of the evil elfin prince in no time at all.]

Claudette wasn't so sure, but she didn't say anything. She was too frightened to speak.

All afternoon, Madeleine struggled to move through the slimy water. Sometimes she would put a foot on dry land but with the next step she was back in the ooze. She was tired and she was hungry. Finally, it started to get dark and she was still surrounded by the land of the evil elfin prince. She remembered her Papa's words, [Once you go in, you will never find your way out]. She found a tiny piece of dry land, sat down and started to cry.

Claudette wanted to say, [I told you so,] but she didn't because she felt sorry for Madeleine. So instead, she said, [At least there aren't any Boche,] which made Madeleine feel much better. She wrapped them both in her shawl, curled into a little ball and they went to sleep.

()()()()()()()()()()

"Sarge, wake up," someone whispered.

Saunders opened his eyes. He felt momentarily disoriented. He could barely hear the voice and he had no idea where it was coming from. Then he heard it again.

"Sarge, Caje sent me. He thinks he sees something."

The NCO pushed his helmet back and looked up. Billy was lying at the upper edge of the crater with his head hanging over the rim, between some branches. Saunders grabbed his Tommy gun and the binoculars. He crouched down and followed Nelson to where the scout waited in the early morning gloom. The sergeant handed him the binoculars.

"I dink someding is moving out dere," the Cajun said as he focused the lenses and slowly scanned the area. "Noding. I must be seeing dings."

Saunders gave his scout a questioning look, remembering the conversation he had had with Moore the day before. But, it wasn't like the Cajun to imagine things. Nelson, yes, and maybe even Littlejohn, but not Caje. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, stalling for time as he considered the situation and pictured the map of the area in his mind.

"There's a big swamp over in the direction you're looking," he said as much to himself as to the scout.

"You think maybe the Krauts are trying to sneak through it, Sarge?" Nelson asked, peering intently into the morning mist as it rose from the blackness of the swamp.

"Maybe. Keep an eye on it."

The sergeant didn't know what the Cajun had seen, but he was convinced it was something. He returned to the crater, woke the rest of the squad and led them over to the fox holes.

"Kirby and Littlejohn, you're on me. The rest of you keep alert. Caje, take the point."

The four men headed toward the swamp. They moved slowly, taking advantage of whatever cover was available, stopping often to listen.

()()()()()()()()()()

Madeleine had been awake for some time, waiting for the sun to appear so she could continue her trek through the land of the evil elfin prince. Finally, it was light enough for her to begin. She put the shawl on her head and let if fall over her shoulders. She picked up Claudette and held her tightly with one hand. With her other hand, she pulled the two sides of the shawl together and clutched them, trying to keep out the early morning chill. But, the shawl didn't do much good. She could feel Claudette shivering as she took her first step into the cold slimy water. She focused on a tree with a branch at a strange angle and headed for it. As she walked, she finally felt the first warm rays of the sun strike her face.

[Don't worry, Claudette. Today we will find the Americans,] she said.

She tried to sound confident, but the little doll could see her lower lip trembling as she said the brave words.

()()()()()()()()()()

The scout raised his fist and the three other men immediately stopped and crouched behind cover. The sergeant inched his way forward and looked where the scout was pointing. A splash of red was clearly visible weaving its way slowly between the tangle of bushes and brambles and the rotting logs and stumps that formed the most visible part of the swamp. Unseen, lying beneath the thin sheen of black water was the slime that oozed up whenever and wherever that sheen was disturbed and then immediately settled back into place so there was no trace that anything had passed by.

"Dere's a kid, Sarge," the scout barely breathed the words.

"Anyone with her?" The question floated on the sergeant's next breath.

"Not dat I see. Why is she traveling in de swamp? Why not move out onto dry land?"

Saunders shook his head. He turned and signaled to the rest of the men to move up and spread out. Even though she wasn't traveling in the direction that led to the fastest way out of the swamp, the kid would soon be stepping onto dry land where she would come face-to-face a different danger.

()()()()()()()()()()

Suddenly, Madeleine saw the end of the swamp. She wanted to run but her legs were too tired. So instead, she continued to struggle, finally reaching the little embankment that marked the end of the evil elfin prince's land. She climbed out of the swamp and onto dry land and immediately fell to her knees, her head dropping to her chest as she let out a big sigh of relief. She stayed still for a moment and then pulled Claudette out from beneath her shawl and gave the doll a kiss.

[You see, Claudette; I knew we could do it. Now we are safe.]

The words had hardly been spoken when a hand clamped tightly over her mouth and she was lifted into the air. Her eyes were wide open in terror as Claudette fell from her grasp.

[Well, well…look what we have found. The colonel will be happy to see you.]

The SS man gave her a cold smile as he ran his fingers through her tangled hair and then squeezed them together into a fist, pulling her head back. The smile froze on his lips as he arched his back, trying to reach the bayonet that had just sliced into him. The child slipped from his arms as his knees buckled and he slumped to the ground, joining his two comrades.

Just as quickly, Madeleine was lifted by a different pair of arms. She twisted and strained to reach her traveling companion as she cried out, [Claudette, Claudette.]

Another man stooped, picked up the little doll and put it into her reaching hands.

"There ya go, little red ridin' hood. Ya don't gotta be afraid of them big bad wolves no more."

Then a different voice said, "Littlejohn, Kirby…move out," and she was whisked away as if on a magic carpet.

Madeleine was confused. The other man had been a Boche; she had seen the lightning bolts on his collar. So, these must be the Americans. They were speaking in the magical language and one had said, "de big bad wolf." But, she was supposed to say her part first. That was what Papa had said, so maybe it was a trick. She decided she would talk it over with Claudette the first chance she got. Until then, she knew she had to be very brave and very, very careful, just like Papa had said.

()()()()()()()()()()

Saunders joined the medic, Kirby, and Caje. "How's she doing, Doc? She say anything to you?"

"She seems fine, Sarge. Dehydrated and hungry…" the medic started to explain, but was interrupted by the BAR man.

"Yeah, she ate a whole can of chopped eggs like it was the best thing she ever tasted, so ya can tell she's hungry."

Doc glared at Kirby. "As Ah was saying, she's dehydrated and hungry, but she hasn't said anything to any of us."

The sergeant looked at the little girl. "Maybe she doesn't speak English."

"I dink she does, Sarge. She's done everyding we've asked her to do, taking off her dress, shoes and socks so we could wash dem out before I even translated for her," the Cajun responded.

Kirby looked at Doc to make sure he wasn't going to say anything before adding, "Well, if ya ask me, she's in shock. She's been yakkin' to that doll of hers like it's a real person."

Saunders watched as the little girl talked to her doll.

##########

_Grace Saunders entered the kitchen and saw her oldest boy standing at the sink, looking out the kitchen window, seemingly lost in a world of his own._

"_A penny for your thoughts," she said with a smile._

_Chip turned to look at his mother and then continued to stare out the window. "I was just wondering about the Brat. She's sitting out on the swing yakking to that stupid doll of hers like it was a real person. How come she does that?"_

_Grace smiled. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's something only little girls do. I had a doll I confided all of my secrets to when I was about Louise's age. None of you boys did that, although, Chip, do you remember the invisible friend you had for a year or two until Robbie was old enough to start following you around?" _

_Chip stared at his mother in disbelief._

"_Why don't you go ask her?" she said._

_Chip rolled his eyes the way only a teen-ager can. He was fifteen and had little use for a baby sister, ten years his junior. Still, he felt it was his duty. He had lost his brother Joey only the year before due, in his mind, to his failure to be the kind of man he had promised his father he would be, a man who took care of his family, a man his father would have been proud of. So, out he trudged. He sat down under the tree and called his sister to come and sit beside him._

"_How come you're all the time talking to that doll?" he asked, perhaps a little more brusquely than he had intended._

_He expected some silly kid's answer, but what he got just about ripped his heart out._

_Louise looked down at the doll. "'Cause she's the only one who will listen to me," she said in a small voice._

_Chip took a good hard look at his sister, seeing her for maybe the first time as a person in her own right. She was no longer the baby she had been when their father died. And, as a Saunders, she couldn't help it if she was the spitting image of their brother Joey; always reminding Chip of that terrible day. He looked at her and saw a person who was just as lost and alone as he was. He fought back bitter tears and sadly shook his head._

"_You're right. I'm sorry; I haven't been a very good brother."_

_She was quiet for a moment. Then she softly asked, "What was Daddy like?"_

_This time he couldn't hold back the tears. At least he had memories of their father. She didn't even have that. He put his arms around her and held her close, his tears falling into her golden hair and hers onto his arms as he cradled and gently rocked her._

##########

The little girl was barefoot, dressed in Kirby's undershirt with a piece of rope tied around her waist to keep it from dragging on the ground. She sat on a log, slowly rocking back and forth as she talked to the doll.

"Caje, have you been able to figure out what she's saying?"

"No, Sarge. She talks too low and fast. I tried to sit down beside her, but she moved away. I guess I scared her."

Saunders watched her for a few more minutes, the words '_she's the only one who will listen to me_' running over and over through his mind. He walked over to the log and sat down, close enough to talk but not so close that he would frighten her.

"What's your doll's name?" he quietly asked.

She looked up and tried to make up her mind whether or not to talk to him. Finally she said, "Claudette."

"Claudette must've been very scared."

"Yes...She cry."

"Well, she doesn't have to be scared now…What's your name?"

"Madeleine."

"Madeleine. That's a very pretty name…Madeleine, is there anything you want to tell me?"

She stared at him. She wished her Papa was there to tell her what to do.

"Are you de Americans?" she finally asked in a small soft voice.

"Yes…Yes, we're the Americans."

The silence between them grew as Madeleine stared down at the little doll in her lap. At last, Claudette whispered to her, [Tell him.]

Barely speaking in a whisper while still looking at the doll, she said, "I am…de Liddle Rabbit."

Then it was Saunders' turn to stare at her. After a moment, he quietly said, "Don't be afraid of the big bad wolf."

Madeleine burst into tears. She ran to him and he picked her up, cradling her in his arms.

()()()()()()()()()()

()()()()()()()()()()

Historical Note: Penicillin was isolated from mold by Alexander Fleming in 1928. By 1939, it had been shown to effectively cure bacterial infections in mice. However, war-time Britain couldn't spare scientists to produce the antibiotic and then conduct the necessary human trials. So, on July 9, 1941, a plane with blacked out windows and carrying a small box of penicillin arrived in the United States.

A laboratory in Peoria, Illinois set to work trying to grow molds to produce the antibiotic in sufficient quantity for further testing. To the scientists' great surprise, a mold growing on a cantaloupe in a Peoria fruit market yielded ten times more penicillin than other more exotic mold varieties. Human trials were conducted, but because of the difficulty in producing the drug, availability was severely limited. By June of 1942, there was only enough in the entire United States to treat ten patients.

However, as a direct result of the actions of the War Production Board, by the time of the Normandy invasion there were 231 billion units available and ampoules of the drug were at various points in the supply chain on their way to allied hospitals, ships and aid stations throughout the two theaters of conflict. (Each ampoule contained 100,000 units. A single infection could require 2 million or more units.) By June of 1945, over 7,952 billion units per year were being produced. When the war ended, the antibiotic was released for civilian and veterinary use.

This 'wonder drug' made a major difference in the number of deaths and amputations caused by infected wounds among Allied forces. It was directly credited with saving an estimated 12-15% of those who made it alive to an aid station.

Major reference: "Penicillin: Medicine's Wartime Wonder Drug and Its Production at Peoria, Illinois" by John S. Mailer, Jr. and Barbara Mason.

1 _Pseudomonas aeruginosa, _a common and deadly cause of bacterial infections in untreated wounds and burns, has the distinct sweet aroma of grape juice.

2 Wild blueberries are known as bilberries in Europe.


End file.
